


swear to god, i ain’t ever gonna repent

by herinterface



Series: pray for the wicked on the weekend [1]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M, spoilers for the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herinterface/pseuds/herinterface
Summary: Apparently Drunk Simon doesn’t just think. He does.-Bram brings Simon to his room at the Halloween party.





	swear to god, i ain’t ever gonna repent

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i’m not as think as you drunk i am](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956840) by [effervescentwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescentwords/pseuds/effervescentwords). 



> spoilers for Love, Simon. title from panic! at the disco’s new single, Say Amen (Saturday Night), which simon definitely has been playing on repeat.

Simon is pretty drunk. I mean, he’s never been drunk before, so he’s not totally sure what it feels like? But from what he’s heard, he thinks that the fact that he just went and sang two karaoke songs in front of a bunch of his classmates (while dancing poorly) is as good of evidence as any.

He’s started separating them in his mind. Drunk Simon and Sober Simon. They live in the same place - his consciousness, but one is just usually holding the reins more than the other. Drunk Simon is kind of... uninhibited. Draping himself all over Bram and begging him to sing a Bieber song with him? Sober Simon wouldn’t do that in a hundred years. It’s easier to blame all of his stupidity on Drunk Simon as if he’s not him.

Speaking of Bram... Drunk Simon has a lot of thoughts about him. Many of the PG-13 variety (although, since he’s gay, it might be more of the R-rated variety. You know, systemic homophobia and censoring and all that.) Sober Simon is a stupid virgin who doesn’t even know about any of this shit, so, seriously, how is Drunk Simon coming up with this stuff?

Not many of Simon’s thoughts right now are totally coherent. _Bram’s hot, I hope he’s Blue, beer is awesome_ , etc., etc. Simple stuff. He’s not quite a philosopher.

But apparently Drunk Simon doesn’t just think. He _does_.

“Simon,” Bram giggles, while their arms are around each other, probably keeping them both from falling to the ground. He leans in close to his ear, as if it’s too loud to be heard, but Simon doesn’t think it’s _that_ loud. “Can you help me up to my room?”

And Simon says, “Sure, man,” like that forced bro term will somehow make his thoughts more heterosexual and make him keep his distance from this gorgeous boy. Honestly, he doesn’t think a SWAT team could keep him apart from him right now.

They stumble, just like that, wrapped up in each other, up the stairs and through a dark hallway to a closed door. Bram opens it and waves his arm with flair, “My room.”

Simon walks in and looks around as Bram closes the door behind them. Interesting.

Simon doesn’t know what he expected from Bram’s room. Blue walls? “I’M BLUE” spray-painted across the floor? Whatever it is, he doesn’t find it, but he keeps looking around anyway. Even if Bram isn’t Blue, he’s still someone Simon wants to get to know better.

Bram walks over to his bed and plops down on the edge, watching Simon take everything in. When Simon finally stops his visual search and turns to face Bram, his breath gets caught in his chest. He’s leaning back on his hands, knees apart, the spitting image of casual. God, if he _is_ straight, Simon will probably cry.

He clears his throat. “So...”

“We should hang out more,” Bram says randomly.

“Hang out...?”

“Yeah. We spend lunch at the same table every day but we never really talk. I think we have a lot in common.”

 _Do we?_ Simon wants to ask, but Bram won’t get what he really means by that. “Yeah, sounds good.” His eyes are shifting everywhere, because if he looks at Bram for too long, he might have a new, different problem on his hands entirely.

Bram tilts his head. “C’mere.” He pats the bed next to him.

Oh my god, this is how Simon dies. Not from heart disease at age 70 like he’s supposed to. He’s going to die from being too homosexual at 17.

He wobbles over to sit next to Bram, takes his time as if an extra second will calm down his stupid racing heart. When he can’t put it off anymore, he sits and turns his head to face Bram. Bram’s just looking at him. Simon’s never wanted to be able to read minds more than he does in this moment.

“Simon,” Bram says cautiously. “Maybe I’m reading this totally wrong but... can I kiss you?”

Wow. Wow wow wow. Simon is really going to have a heart attack. He doesn’t have time to process anything, like the fact that Bram is apparently into dudes but especially into _him_ , or the fact that he’s alone in a boy’s bedroom _on his bed_ , or the fact that he’s about to have his first kiss with a boy and that he doesn’t know what will come next, because Drunk Simon has decided he doesn’t give a shit about thinking anymore and he’s just leaning in and kissing him. Kissing Bram.

Okay, a few things: One, Simon is definitely gay. Like, he knew, but now he _knows_. Wow. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Why hasn’t he been doing this his entire life? Two, Bram is an amazing kisser and Simon’s never felt more turned on in his life. Three, he still can’t believe this is happening. He’s still expecting to wake up from this immensely realistic sex dream with his mom yelling that he’s late for school and Bieber licking his face. Four, oh my god Bram is _kissing his neck_. His fucking neck. Simon is in serious danger of going into cardiac arrest. He opens his eyes just to make sure he’s not asleep, and there’s Bram. Definitely really kissing his neck. Then he’s back on his lips, and there’s tongue. Best dream ever.

Except then there’s a loud crash and laughter emanating from somewhere outside the room, and they break apart suddenly, like being thrown back into reality. Oh yeah, they’re in the middle of a Halloween party with dozens of their classmates basically right outside the door wreaking havoc.

Simon looks at Bram. He’s breathing heavily, and his lips are a little swollen, and he has a stupid grin on his beautiful face. The beautiful face he, Simon Spier, was just kissing. Unreal.

While this is quite literally a dream come true, Simon can’t help the gnawing feeling of guilt at the pit of his stomach. Sure, Bram likes Oreos (aka: is a smart human being), and maybe he was being a little flirty all night. But the possibility that he‘s Blue, the anonymous penpal Simon had been falling for (oh, wow) for weeks? He knows it‘s wishful thinking. He‘s not that lucky. He’s not the guy who, against all odds, finds out his real life crush and his email crush are the same beautiful, smart, funny guy. He‘s the guy who gets blackmailed by an asshole because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to log out of a website. He‘s the guy who gets put into possibly the easiest situation and environment for coming out a gay guy could ever have, but is still too scared to do it. He‘s the guy who falls for a stranger over emails because real life is too intimidating.

“Bram...” He leans away, resting his hand lightly on Bram’s chest as if to hold him back. Bram’s dazed, kiss-struck face almost makes Simon reconsider the whole thing and say _fuck it, I deserve this._ He powers through. “As much as I’m loving this, and I mean _loving_ this, I... have to admit something.”

Bram says nothing, looking him in the eyes and listening with such intensity that Simon feels he might keel over.

He breathes in deeply. “Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I’ve been emailing this guy for a couple weeks because he, like, made a post on that stupid blog about being gay and being stuck on a Ferris wheel and shit and it, like, really moved me, so I emailed him, and we’ve been sharing a correspondence—“ He slurs through the word so it’s barely recognizable— “of sorts and I think I really like him and this kind of feels like cheating on him? Even though I have no idea who he is or if he’s even real so it’s probably ridiculous? So I feel really guilty? But you’re honestly a great guy and you’re so, _so_ hot, but you don’t deserve my... mess. You know?”

He finally looks back at Bram, who’s staring at him kind of frantically, wide-eyed and mouth slack. He can’t read the look on his face at all. He’s not sure he’d be able to even if he wasn’t inebriated off his ass.

“Bram?” Simon prods.

“ _Jacques a dit_ ,” Bram breathes, like a revelation. “Oh, that’s clever.”

“What?” Simon furrows his eyebrows. He realizes a little belatedly that his hand still rests on Bram’s chest. “I didn’t tell you that.”

Bram continues to stare at him like that, and then Sober Simon forces his way into the front seat of his consciousness, and it clicks.

“Blue?!” he says, too loudly, wincing at himself.

“Simon...”

“Oh my god,” Simon says, laughing a little hysterically. “No way. This is a dream, this is literally a dream.”

“Simon,” Bram says again, chuckling. He gets closer, Simon’s hand on his chest giving way with literally no effort, and cradles Simon’s jaw in his right hand. His eyes seem to scan over his entire face, before finally settling on his lips. “Wow. I’m so glad it’s you.”

Simon smiles. “Me too. You have no idea.”

“I think I have some idea,” Bram says, smiling right back, leaning in with a purpose. This time, when they kiss, there’s only warmth and sweetness, and a fluttering in Simon’s stomach. His hand finally moves up from its claimed territory on Bram’s chest to the back of his neck, holding him there as he deepens the kiss.

He still hasn’t fully processed what just happened - that’s a task for Hungover Simon - but all he knows is there’s no reason to feel guilty, and this is exactly where he wants to be.

Except, when Simon’s hands start drifting down to the hem of Bram’s shirt (post-presidency Barack Obama, god, how ridiculous and adorable is his Blue?), Bram pulls away, regret all over his face. “Actually... we shouldn’t do this when we’re both drunk. It’s... you’re Jacques, you know? That changes everything. This... okay, this probably sounds stupid, but my brain-to-mouth filter is broken right now, but I want it to be special. You and me. Do you understand?”

And Simon just looks at him, his beautiful Blue, face apologetic and wary, and knows he could never deny him for as long as he lives. “Yeah. I understand. This is something reserved for Sober Simon.”

“Sober Simon?” Bram says, raising his eyebrows slightly and smiling so softly. “Is he a separate person from Drunk Simon?”

“Not really, they live in the same place. Drunk Simon just tends to be a little more stupid and reckless. Sober Simon is kind of a loser.” And yeah, he’s officially making no sense. Can you blame him? “You sure you want to get into all this?” he jokes, but Bram turns very serious.

“Yes. I do.” Then he smiles so big, Simon might be a little blinded momentarily. This boy really could outshine the sun.

He can’t help himself; Simon leans in for another kiss, which Bram happily returns. “Alright. Then I should go home.” He stands, a little unsteady on his feet at first, then regains his balance.

“You don’t have to,” Bram says, a little desperate, reaching his hand out as if to physically pull him back down. “You can stay.”

“Bram, believe me when I say: if I stay here with you for one minute longer, there’s no way in hell I can stop myself from touching you everywhere.”

Oh. How did that escape his mouth? He seals his lips shut to stop himself from incriminating himself any further and blushes a little pink. Bram... curiously rakes his eyes down and back up Simon’s body and bites his lip.

Yeah, Simon needs to leave this room immediately.

He laughs breathlessly and moves to the door, “Okay, well. Good night, Bram.”

“Good night, Simon.”

He looks back one more time to see Bram’s face. He thinks he recognizes the look now. He turns and leaves.

-

Simon wakes up with a throbbing in his head like someone hit it repeatedly with a baseball bat while he was sleeping. He winces, and then all the events from the night before flood into his mind like a car crash. _Oh, I made out with Bram. Oh, Bram is Blue. Blue is Bram. Oh, he wasn’t disappointed. He was actually happy that I’m Jacques. Or that Jacques is me. Whatever._

Then his inner dialogue is interrupted by Leah walking into his room. He just barely remembers that she slept over last night. “You’re an idiot,” she says fondly, handing him pills and a glass of water. She ruffles his hair. “Make yourself look human and come downstairs. Nora’s making breakfast.”

“When isn’t she?” he says, downing the pills and thanking her. She leaves again, leaving him alone to his thoughts, which quickly start to turn sour.

He becomes very aware that Bram was very drunk last night, and might not have been acting like himself. Blue had been insistent on secret identities and anonymity. Bram could have outed himself as Blue by complete accident. He probably regrets it. He probably doesn’t want Simon to know. He probably doesn’t want anything to change. Simon has backed his crush into a corner and he’s a complete monster. The panic starts to rise in his chest, and he quickly takes out his phone to type an email.

 

 

> from: frommywindow1@gmail.com  
>  to: blugreen118@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Halloween
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> Nothing has to change. I know you wanted us to not know each other’s identities, from the beginning. That you wanted this to be a safe space where you could anonymously talk to someone who understood you. I’d like to think that’s me. The guy who understands you. So, absolutely nothing has to be any different. We can still just be Jacques and Blue, two strangers who simultaneously know nothing and everything about each other.
> 
> Enough of that vague tangent; let me tell you about my night. It was pretty boring. I just stayed at home and ate fun-sized Twix bars and watched Halloween movies. Didn’t even dress up. My friends wanted to go out but I was like “No way, Jose, what if some poor kids come to my front door and there’s no one here to give them candy?” What would happen, Blue? They would starve, that’s what.
> 
> I hope your hangover isn’t as horrible as mine.
> 
> Love, Jacques

 

  
Heart in his throat, Simon turns off his phone and doesn’t look at it all day. He hopes he hasn’t ruined things for good. What if Blue, Bram, stops emailing him? Never looks him in the eyes again at school? Shit. How can the best night of his life turn into the worst morning?

After a day of breaking himself out of his mood, hanging out with Leah, Abby, and Nick, he finally settles down in bed in the evening with his laptop and checks his email. One new message.

 

>   
>  from: blugreen118@gmail.com  
>  to: frommywindow1@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Halloween
> 
> Dear Simon,
> 
> Sounds like a pretty boring night. My night was much better. I held a party at my place because my aunt’s boyfriend took off with her car and all her jewelry (long story), and a guy I really liked decided to come. Some flirting, beirut, and drunken karaoke went down. Then we went back to my room, and things got a little steamy... then he tells me that he happens to also be my second crush (some guy whose identity I didn’t know for sure yet, roll with me here). It was like I won the lottery. As much as I wanted to hook up with him, I held off because I knew there was something special between us, and I didn’t want to mess that up or trivialize it with a drunken affair. I look forward to my future with him.
> 
> You’re right. Nothing has to change. We can still be Jacques and Blue, two guys who know nothing and everything about each other. But we can also be Simon and Bram, two guys who get to know each other a little more.
> 
> P.S. Jacques a dit! Still very clever.  
>  P.P.S. My hangover isn’t too bad. Especially when you weigh it against the circumstances. Totally worth it.
> 
> Love, Bram

**Author's Note:**

> walkfire.tumblr.com


End file.
